Living with Jim
by DAWA
Summary: A series of oneshots in which a student takes in the consulting criminal. However, the man is not so easy to live with... Dedicated to a friend of mine.
1. The Book Throne

_**Author note:**_

_This series of one shots are dedicated to my wonderful friend, but I couldn't help and publish it here for random laughter.  
>It's basically what would happen if Jim Moriarty would live in with a student.<br>Please review! _

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><p>It had been a few weeks since Moriarty had moved in. The man had faked his death, and to make sure he wouldn't get recognized he decided to spend his time with anyone who wouldn't throw him out again.<p>

That's how he had met Becky. He had spent a few weeks at a friend of Becky's, who got so irritated at the fact that 'Jim' kept planting cameras in the living room that she had the urge to throw him out. Becky, only just having an apartment and living on her own took the consulting criminal as a challenge and invited him in. Just to see how this would go.

Needless to say it was difficult trying to make sure he wouldn't wreck the house, but from time to time the man could be quite fun to talk to. It was better than living on your own, even though Becky had to thoroughly clean the house once a week to make sure the blood stains got out of the carpet.

"JIM! Oh, god, what is that idiot up to this time?" Becky only just got home when she heard a loud 'THUD', and hurried upstairs to her room. There she found Moriarty, who had made some sort of mini-throne out of all the books that she owned. "Good afternoon, how was work?" he simply asked, smiling at a shocked Becky.

"Seriously?" she asked him, while pointing that the mess he had been able to make in her fairly small room. "Why did you do this? No hold on, don't say it. This is low, even for you, Jim."

"Oh come on… Don't you think this is lovely?" he stood up and grabbed his Smartphone, typing something before putting it away again. He smiled, people who didn't know him would say that was a genuine smile, and walked past Becky, and downstairs.

"Good luck cleaning, dear…"

Moriarty was just quick enough to dodge the book that Becky threw at him.

"JIM! You idiot! Get back here, right now!"


	2. A Fairy Tale

Laughter. A lot of evil-sounding laughter. Better check out what the hell this is all about.

Moriarty was on the phone, absolutely delighted about something, and as soon as Becky walked into the room he stopped laughing. "Wonderful, Seb! Keep me updated" he quickly said before putting down the phone. He was grinning widely, and Becky wondered what the hell was wrong. Moriarty sometimes was in a good mood, but this was completely different. It was like his parents had given him a puppy for Christmas. Or in his case, a puppy with the permission he could do anything to the poor thing.

"Hey… Jim, why are you so…" she tried to find the most suitable word for this, but couldn't find it so settled with "delighted?" The consulting criminal turned to her and tilted his head to the side, studying Becky before answering, his grin once again appearing on his face.

"Dear Johnny-boy is in rehab. The poor pet is still mourning his master and not doing very well…" he said, voice raised and some fake sympathy added in the last syllables. Becky was confused. Why would he be happy about that?

"Who is this 'Johnny-boy' person and why do you call him a pet?" After two months of living with Jim, Becky was still completely astonished with what the man sometimes talked about.

When Moriarty saw this confused expression his grin turned into a genuine smile. Suddenly, he didn't seem delighted, he seemed excited.

"I haven't told you that, have I?" He sat down on the nearest chair and gestured to Becky to do the same. With a much darker tone in his voice he spoke again. "Let me tell you a fairy tale."

Slowly but surely, Becky sat down on the chair opposite to the one Moriarty was sitting on. She was frowning. Her flatmate was acting strange, and knowing the consulting criminal, she wasn't sure if she should listen or just run.

But Jim just quietly sipped his tea until Becky had sat down comfortably, before leaning forward and grinning again.

"This is the story of Sir Boast-A-Lot." At these words Becky started laughing. Was he serious? Oops, looking at the man's expression he was.

"Can I?" Jim asked, eyebrows raised when Becky's laughter had died out. She silently nodded and he smiled again, continuing his story. While talking, Moriarty's facial expressions changed to the setting of the story. It was just like he did this for a living. Actually quite funny, seeing Jim 'wonder'.

"Sir Boast-a-lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the round table, but soon the other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons he'd slayed, and some of them began to wonder, "Are Sir Boast-a-lot's stories even true?" Oh no. So, one of the knights went to King Arthur and said, "I don't believe Sir Boast-a-lot's stories. He's just a big, old liar who makes things up to make himself look good." And then, even the king began to wonder, but that wasn't the end of Sir Boast-a-lot's problem. No. That wasn't the final problem."

At this part he stopped, smirking widely at Becky who sat in utter confusion. What was he talking about?

"Are you that Boast-a-lot fellow?" she asked, wondering why the hell Moriarty was talking about this. There must have been some meaning to it. Was he telling her his lifestory?

But at Becky's question Jim's grin fell and turned into an expression which showed he was irritated.

"Of course not, doofus!" he exclaimed. "Oh, you silly little people. This is just a story, and I am most definitely **not** Sir Boast-a-lot. No, that role is for someone else entirely."

Becky nodded in 'comprehension' (not that she actually understood what he meant), and Moriarty smiled again, back in story mode.

"So that wasn't his final problem. Sir Boast-a-lot realized that the only way he could save the only people he cared for, Prince Watson, King Arthur and Lady Hudson, was to disappear. So he chose the highest building in Camelot, and fell."

He made a falling noise, with a loud THUMP at the end. Becky couldn't believe what she had just heard. This was by far the strangest fairytale she had ever heard. Only thing that really showed it even was a fairy tale was the not-so-happy ending.

"So that's it? Why did he have to… die in order to save those people? If he had to disappear, why not just leave?"

Jim smirked. "Because Prince Watson would never let Sir Boast-a-lot leave if he knew he was still alive."

Silence fell over the room, and Becky stared at Moriarty, confusion still on her face but also a hint of understanding. Suddenly, Moriarty stood up and walked over to the kitchen. He had finished his story.

"Care for some tea?"


	3. The Sandwich Job

_**AUTHOR NOTE:**__ Hello! New chapter, yay! This story will be a bit different. I've written this story in the first person, how Becky experienced this strange happening. The story is based on some things that happened in 'The Office Job' of the tv-show Leverage. Believe it or not, I wrote more than a thousand words about a sandwich! *proud* There will be an epilogue up soon! Also, review review review!_

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><p>7:00<p>

_Beep, beep, beep._

"... not yet... Five more minutes."

_Snooze._

7:29  
><em>Beep, beep, beep<em>

"Shit!"

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><p>It was an early morning, and when I found out I slept in (again), I almost praised the gods for I had made some sandwiches the day before. It had taken some effort, but I'd do anything for a good lunch.<p>

After grabbing the clothes I had laid out and packed my bag, Iran downstairs and towards the fridge. There was no sign of Jim, but he was probably still asleep.

I opened the fridge, and got a bottle of water out first. But when I wanted to grab the sandwich, I found out it wasn't there.

Where did it go? In my opinion there was only one logical explanation. Jim had taken the sandwich.

"Jim! You idiot, wake up and get over here!"

Nothing.

What time was it again?

7:47

Darn it.

I decided this wasn't worth it, and left without my sandwich, figuring I'd just take some time to buy food.

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><p><em>Beep, beep.<em>

**Mobile phone, 1 new message. Timestamp 10:22  
>You woke me up with your yelling, but I couldn't be bothered to go downstairs. What was it? -JM<strong>

That idiot.

**New message - Jim the fish  
>Don't you know? Someone stole my sandwich, and the only person who had means, motive an opportunity is you!<strong>

_Send._

_Beep, beep._

Another message.

**Come on, Becky. Do you honestly think I'd steal something as simple as a sandwich? You probably ate it yourself and forgot about it. -JM**

So, that sandwich was forgettable? I made my own tuna salad from fresh ingredients, including some home-made mayonnaise, seasoned it with salt and pepper. I put that on a freshly baked bread roll with a bit of lettuce. That's forgettable? I don't think so.

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><p>When I returned home, Jim was sitting... No wait, laying on the couch. He seemed to be asleep, so I silently walked over to the kitchen and opened the box of Jim's chocolate cookies, the cookies that I should at all times stay away from. Silently, I grabbed a cookie and closed the box. With the cookie already in my mouth (no wonder Jim never let me touch these, this is delicious!) I turned around, only to get a minor heart attack. Jim was already in front of me, a scary look on his face.<p>

"What. Were. You. Doing?" he asks, his voice dangerously low. I wanted to run away, the man was unpredictable, but I needed to win this battle. I was going to make him confess. I picked myself up, and faked a look of confusion.

"Oh... So these are the cookies you told me about? Sorry, I thought you weren't going to eat these."

This was a dangerous game to play, and I knew that damn well. But I couldn't quite forgive him for stealing that sandwich yet. Moriarty was his usual calm self, not showing any emotion. And it scared me to death.

After another minute of something which had turned into a staring contest I retreated. I didn't have time for this. I'd confront him again when he least expects it. I mumbled a quick 'sorry' so that he wouldn't keep bothering me about it and retreated to my room. Time to plan.

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><p>Later that evening I called Lotte and asked her to come over. Since we graduated high school we kept in contact, but not as often as both of us really want. So we made our 'weekly' appointment for tomorrow, and Lotte insisted on coming over to my place, because apparently she was interested in meeting Jim. I spent the next day worrying about the outcome.<p>

When the next day I told Jim that Lotte was coming over, he smiled, let out an enthusiastic 'brilliant!' and went upstairs immediately. I didn't see him again until Lotte had been here for a while already. We had been chatting, talking about some shows we watch, some music and what had happened to us the past week. The topic 'Jim Moriarty' came up too, because Lotte was a very curious person.

"So… Who is this Jim you keep talking about? Where is he anyway, you told me he'd be here." She asked, and I noticed her looking around. Apparently, she really wanted to meet the consulting criminal. But Jim hadn't showed his face yet.

"I don't know, maybe he's talking to Moran again." My reply came out a bit too relieved, and Lotte raised an eyebrow.

"You guys had a little domestic?"

"He's just my flatmate! But I suppose I am pretty mad at him."

At this I heard Moriarty close a door upstairs, and decided to yell at him.

"You still owe me a sandwich!"

Lotte was confused by my random outburst and she started laughing.

"What is the sandwich a metaphor for? A snog?"

"Just flatmates, Lotte! Just flatmates! He has Moran as a boyfriend anyway!"

"Aw, how cute! Moriarty and Moran, huh? MorMor!"

"LOTTE!"

At this point we were both laughing pretty loudly, and I started to think Jim might not be showing up at all. However, the odds weren't really in my favor, and by the time we had calmed down a bit Moriarty came walking downstairs.

Jim was awfully polite towards Lotte, and even got us some tea (which he never does, I usually have to make tea for him) and sat down on the chair opposite to us, and drank his tea while listening to our conversation. It was hard for me to keep talking because the presence of Moriarty made me a bit nervous… After a little while of more small talk, and some staring at Jim, Lotte went back on the 'sandwich' subject.

"But really, Beck. What does the sandwich stand for? You never really answered me…"

"The sandwich is an actual sandwich! The idiot stole it from me this morning and refuses to admit it!"

At this I saw Lotte looking over to Jim and frown. Jim was still in his polite mask, now reading a newspaper.

"But he's so nice! I can't imagine he'd do something like that…"

"Oh… he would."

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><p>After another day, I gave up. There was no way I was going to get anything out of Jim, and to be really honest, I started to believe him. He might be a criminal, but stealing a sandwich was nothing like the man. He probably thought it was below him to steal a sandwich when he'd 'stolen' the crown jewels.<p>

And with that, I never mentioned the sandwich again.


	4. The Sandwich thief

_AUTHOR NOTE: Hello everyone! This is a sort of epilogue to 'the sandwich job'. In this chapter we'll find out what happened to the sandwich._

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><p>"Sebby, hey! How is the hostage?"<p>

"Well, he's unconscious right now, apparently he's afraid of blood."

"Oh, how dull. Get rid of him."

"Sure thing, boss."

Silence…

"Jim, that can't be the only reason you called."

He knew Seb was the best pet he could get. Lethal yet understanding towards his boss.

"No, it wasn't. Seb, did you take the sandwich?"

More silence. So he did. Probably after reporting to him about Johnny-boy's state.

"You can tell me, Sebby. I won't kill you."

"You know, if she wasn't going to kill either of us, I'd go thank that girl. She can cook! Really! Can you make sure she makes another one for the next time I come by?"

"Oh, Seb, of course I can."

And he would.


End file.
